Sunshine
by SeedsAndMisdeeds
Summary: There's so much more to life than death, Spencer Reid finally learns. And it's his favourite lesson. Though that might have something to do with having Eden Summers for a teacher...Maybe. Possibly. Entirely. Reid/OFC
1. Prologue: He's Got a Gun

**Okay – I am officially in love with Dr. Spencer Reid. Words cannot even describe it. Genuinely very pathetic. However, I've decided to focus that sad, sad energy into writing a fanfic about it!**

**Hurrah!**

**So here it is, my first Criminal Minds fiction – I hope you all enjoy it and give it a chance :) **

**Now onto the prologue!...**

_Then Julie yelled, "He's got a gun!"  
And she stepped in front of me_

Suddenly, a shot rang out  
And I saw Julie falling!

**Run Joey Run by David Geddes**

Eden had never seen so many guns in her life. It was a ridiculous amount, nigh on inconceivable for an English country girl who much preferred her chick flicks to any kind of cliché gangster film, or serious war drama.

Even in the documentaries Spencer watched there was always a certain detachment from it, like they were really some kind of pellet gun or water pistol, and death didn't meet you at the end of the barrel. The actors' names in the rolling credits certified that much.

But something told Eden that, in the blink of an eye, the credits of her own life were going to start screening; if one of them slipped just a little, exhaled a little too harshly, shook in the slightest. There was a hair's distance between her and their target, and that target in question had his own glock pressed fiercely, painfully into the racks of her ribs. His other hand settled warningly around her throat.

She was scared for herself. And that was new.

Normally any semblance of fright was reserved for the people stood before her now, a staircase below her, levelling the barrels of their weapons steadily at the unknown behind her, their eyes darting worriedly from her to him and back again.

They looked so professional, so unlike the smiling family she knew and loved well. So unlike she did when she had stumbled upon the hidden pistol in Aaron's study drawer and hadn't been able to resist grasping it in her best Charlie's Angels pose.

"_Stick 'em up, Buster! I've got a weapon and I'm not afraid to use it! "_

_A chuckle came from the doorway behind her and she whipped vehemently around, gun forgotten but still raised, pointed at the intruder. Her eyes had widened, chocolate curls swaying at the sudden motion._

"_While you might not find yourself afraid you may still experience some difficulty with the execution, if you'll excuse the pun," he smiled, hands deeply embedded in the brown of his trouser pockets, honey eyes sparked with mirth, "The safety is still on."_

_Eden quickly dropped her hands and cocked her head to the side, one dimple appearing as she let loose a teasing grin, "Then I guess it's your lucky day, punk."_

_The stranger let out a soft, genuine laugh, a smile still lingering in the contours of his face: "I guess it is."_

Looking into those honey browns in that moment was one of the hardest things Eden had to do. She didn't want him to see her like that: vulnerable; needy; alone. And she didn't want the reality check that came with it. What if she saw fear there? Desperation? Hopelessness?

Then she would know for sure…

She'd know she wasn't getting out of there.

The stranger holding her shook her from her thoughts, moving his hand up to grab her jaw and squeeze her cheeks together tightly; embarrassingly. "No?" He mocked, "You don't want to?" He sighed dramatically and Eden wondered if he was smirking, wondered how _anyone_ could see this as entertaining. Pleasurable.

He manhandled her, shaking her head from side to side before turning his attention to those watching the show. _His_ show.

"How about you, Dr. Reid?" He almost giggled, placing a kiss on her cheek as his hand, calloused and unyielding, slid disgustingly from her face to the swell of her chest, hovering above her cleavage dauntingly. Eden felt sick and tried to swallow back welling tears and rising bile as both surfaced. "Care to share your feelings with the class?" His hands began to travel again, the gun rising to meet her temple, the other continuing south, skimming between her breasts and following along, caressing her waist. "How much you want her…" he tickled across her midriff, "How much you need her…" travelled down to her hip, "How much you _love_ her…"

He reached further, drifting from her hip to her thigh, lifting her skirt to skim the bare, soft skin there, his eyes – laughing, poisonous eyes – never leaving Spencer's. It took everything in the young doctor not to pull the trigger then and there, took everything to hold his gun steady as tremors of rage and frustration rattled his nerves. He took deep breaths. _It's what he wants, _he reiterated in his mind, radio silence in his ears, _don't give him what he wants._

Then she caught him. Her eyes couldn't help but find his as tears escaped her lashes, cascading down the angles of her face, unnaturally pale. He hated the fear there, the apology written across her features. As if it was her fault. As if she was anything other than collateral damage.

Spencer held her gaze, using his face to tell her everything he felt, making promises with the contours of his skin, the widening of his eyes, bobbing of his Adam's apple.

He would get her out of there. If it was the last thing he did on this earth he would find a way to get her out of that murdering bastard's hold and back to his.

Spencer did love her. But, as much as he hated it, loving her would have to wait.

"Come now, Doctor, I don't have all day," he pressed Eden's body closer to himself, and she could feel everything. Every curve of his body, every nook and muscle firmly flattened against her back. She could feel just how _damn excited _he was by the situation. She closed her eyes and held her breath to resist the sob that was climbing up her chest. Was this it? Was this how it was going to end?

"And who knows how long poor, little Jack has?"

**Read and review? Por Favor? :) **


	2. Chapter 1: Take Good Care of My Baby

**A/N: Here's number one people – it seems really long and Spencer isn't in it (sad, I know, I'm sorry!) But you get a feel for the character and the plot begins! **

**Disclaimer: I wish it was mine. I really, really do.**

XXXX

_Take good care of my baby,_

_Don't you ever make her blue,_

_Just tell her that you love her,_

_Make sure you're thinking of her,_

_In everything you say and do_

_**Take Good Care - Bobby Vee**_

XXXX

Eden's phone was vibrating.

Boxes were everywhere, labels messily scrawled in enthusiastic loops on the cardboard. She was sat on the floor, attempting to alphabetize her CDs, literally surrounded by all the crap she deemed important enough to bring back with her to the good ol' U.S of A.

And her phone was vibrating.

"Seriously?" She quirked an eyebrow at the offender, roughly shoving herself off of the wooden floor and hurling over the first box, successfully stubbing her toe, before choosing to dance around the rest with more caution, biting curse words on her tongue.

By the time she got to it, the ringing had stopped.

She was not impressed. And she refused to let her efforts go to waste. Picking up the mobile (cellphone, damnit, she was in America now!) she hit return call and waited with curiosity as the line rang.

She wasn't exactly sure who it was that could be interested in calling her at that moment in time, hardly anybody knew of her return to the States and she would have recognised a number of a family member… and this number was American.

So who was it?

They picked up on the third ring, and the voice on the other end startled Eden.

"_Agent Hotchner."_

It was deep and serious and Eden all but had a panic attack then and there. _Agent? As in, Federal Agent?_ She took two deep breaths, trying to retrace her steps in her mind. Her visa was valid, she was there to study and as far as she was concerned had no involvement in any kind of dodgy drug trafficking or homicide.

Wrong number, maybe?

She willed herself to speak.

"Hi, uh, sorry to bother you –" except that, you know, he'd bothered her first, "- this is Eden Summers, I received a phone call from this number a moment ago?" Her voice was polite, masking her lack of confidence (though how well, she wasn't sure) and she nibbled her lower lip as she awaited Agent Hotchner's reply.

"_Miss Summers, hello – I'm glad you could contact me so quickly."_

"No, I'm sorry I missed your call in the first place. My apartment's posing as an assault course right now and my kitchen appliances attacked me – took me down but I came back fighting and, well, here I am…" There was a slight silence on the other end that lasted a little too long to be comfortable. God, that was an unnecessary amount of information… What if he thought she was crazy? Can the Bureau snag you for that? "Sorry, I'm a little nervous here. Why is the FBI contacting me, exactly?"

"_The FBI isn't," _Eden could have sworn there was some kind of amusement in his tone, _"I am. My name is Aaron Hotchner; I believe you know my son, Jack, from your work placement the year before last? Do you remember him?"_

Eden could hear the pounding of her heart in her ears, thudding dramatically. She did remember him – small, sandy haired, cute as a button. She'd been assigned to help him with further English since his reading was so high above standard. That was when she'd gone to the junior school – Lincoln's –for work experience. The boy had all but stolen her heart.

"Yes, of course I do, I did some one-on-one work with him to further improve his reading skills. Did something happen? Is he ok?" The words were rushed as she tried to string together some comprehensible reason why he would be contacting her concerning his own son, drawing up a blank.

"_He's fine, though I appreciate your concern. I'm actually calling to see if you'd consider interviewing for the position of his caretaker while I'm occupied at work. I've seen a lot of candidates already and none of them seem to be quite right. When Mrs Thomas informed me of your return to the city I thought it might be worth chasing you down on the off chance you'd meet with me?"_

Eden didn't reply, shell-shocked into silence. She was studying for her doctorate so she had the time, more than enough time, it was just that, well, it was so out of the blue. Things like this didn't happen usually, not like this.

But she knew Anya Thomas, she was Jack's teacher – well, old teacher now – and was a kind and loving woman. She wouldn't hand over her details to a stranger. And Anya knew Eden had returned to the city because she had asked her to keep an eye out for any job prospects…

She just thought she would be informed about any choices she made.

Apparently, she had been silent too long, because Aaron began speaking again.

"_I realise this is a sudden and strange request, which is why I'm asking that I meet you first in order for both of us to be comfortable with moving any further." _Out of context, that statement could be completely misconstrued, she thought aimlessly, _"But Jack remembers you. You're still his favourite teacher."_

Well, damn – and she was supposed to say no to that how, exactly?

She couldn't. And that, she knew, was the point.

In all fairness, what did she have to lose? As she was thinking, she began to boot up her laptop, fingers poised and ready to Google as she kept the phone securely between her shoulder and ear. "Uh, sure – I mean, I guess it couldn't hurt…" She bit her lip again and let the silence stretch a little, "I might sound a little less hesitant when I've finished Googling you. That, or I'll be hanging up, result-dependent and all…"

He let out a slight laugh and it coated his reply, _"Now that, I can assure you, is something that makes me feel all the more comfortable about this." _Well, at least he wasn't trying to hide anything. And, according to the list of articles and acclimations, he had no reason to. Everything checked out for the Unit Chief of the Behavioural Analysis Unit. _"Jack has soccer training in Regents Park tomorrow – it'll be early but if you meet me there then we'll have an hour of time that I can actually secure on my schedule as uninterrupted. And it's a public area, plenty of directions to run in if you feel the need."_

She laughed, a little nervously if she was honest, but he seemed nice and apparently genuine (how much effort would it take to fake so much about yourself on the internet? She didn't know – science and technology were not her strong suits.)

"Hmm, I don't know, how early is early, exactly?"

"_Eight."_

She let out a short laugh, "So much for the weekend! That is harsh!" She laughed again and faked a slight sigh, "Please, tell me there's coffee at least?"

Aaron laughed, _"In abundance."_

Eden smiled. He seemed nice from what she could hear and her Google results had all been positive from the cursory glance she'd cast… did she have anything to lose? Other than her life, if this turned out to be some kind of horrible 30s mafia film-inspired kidnap?

"Where there's caffeine, there is Eden Summers! I'll see you bright and unspeakably early, Mister Hotchner!"

She could have sworn she'd heard a sigh on his end, though the tone of it, she was unsure. Relief, maybe? Or was that just her ego talking? _"Thank you, Miss Summers. I look forward to it."_

XXXX

Despite the fact that she had nothing to do (having given up on her packing after the betrayal of her kitchen wear) Eden found that the morning came faster than anticipated. The alarm clock glared at her as it violently shrilled and for a moment she simply stared in confusion, her hair a tangled tumble across her face. She slapped a hand down clumsily and silence ensued.

Why on earth was she getting up at _seven o'clock _intentionally? Did an AM version of that time even exist anymore?

It took a moment for it all to come back as she laid there, eyes trained on the whitewashed ceiling, and when it did she released a small breath and allowed herself to smile. Today she had a purpose – something tangible to attend to that did not involve any version of packing, unpacking or repacking – and that surprisingly felt nice.

Which was weird.

She was a student still; nothing was supposed to make the morning feel _nice_.

But after the lazy summer she'd had, a confusing and long summer that was somehow only half over, the potential for change, the potential to actually have some kind of drive, felt good. So she got out of bed, no-narrating-groan to be heard, and dragged herself to the shower, hoping beyond all hope that her good feeling would be justified.

And that he wasn't an axe murderer.

_Because, y'know, that could be awkward…_

XXXX

Training for Jack's soccer team had begun at quarter to and was well underway by the time Aaron Hotchner felt a tap on his shoulder. He had planned it to be this way, not wanting Jack to notice his old teacher and dad speaking in case he got his hopes up and things didn't work out.

Though Aaron really, really hoped they would. Finding a suitable nanny in DC? Not as easier as you would think.

Especially for a slightly paranoid perfectionist like Agent Hotchner who, admittedly, had higher expectations than the usual, run-of-the-mill nine-to-fiver.

"Excuse me, Aaron Hotchner?"

Her voice was sweet and served to remind him that she was only young – twenty-three now, according to Jack's old teacher – and while she sounded slightly hesitant there was a cheerfulness to the tone that he recognised from their phone conversation. It was something he had found indescribably enjoyable simply because, in his line of work, it was unique.

If not extinct.

He turned and allowed a smile as he reached out to shake her hand, "Yes, hello. You must be Miss Summers."

Grinning, she shook his hand firmly, though considering how small her hands were it didn't move him much. "Eden, please – Miss Summers makes me feel like I should be roaming graveyards at night with something wooden and pointy. And knowing me I'd manage to splinter myself." She let out a laugh that clued him in to her nerves and couldn't help but be amused.

She was energetic. And extended sentences to create a feeling of familiarity and comfort between the two of them. Aaron raised an amused eyebrow at what he was sure was a habit born from socialising alone from a young age. _No siblings, _he assumed. Judging by the sheepish expression that overcame her, she noticed. "Sorry," she held her hands up in defence, "Nervous. It goes to my head. Though at least I know now you are who you say you are! Can't fault the internet on that front – if things had been different Google images may have saved my life today." He let out a laugh that sparked his dark eyes, though it was an understated one, as though to not draw attention to his happiness. Eden noted that he looked much younger when he was smiling.

But that was beyond the point.

"You'll have to excuse the outfit: I realise it isn't typical to wear to an interview but I figured high heels and a pencil skirt wouldn't have been particularly conducive to a successful escape mission. And, y'know, the weather's so nice."

Hotch took the moment to survey the young woman before him. She was small in stature, the top of her head barely skimming his chin, causing her to tilt her neck back when addressing him. 5'2, he'd have guessed, with maybe a little in it either way. The summer dress she wore was sweet and conservative, holding to the noticeable curves of her slim body and her skin was pale and stereotypically English-rose like. The warm yellow colour suited her, giving off a friendly disposition. Sunny. He wondered if that was subconscious or another attempt at breeding familiarity.

Her eyes were doe-like as she looked on at him, her head tilted slightly, and a rare ivy green Hotch hadn't seen before – complemented well by tumbling dark curls and a heart shaped face. The most noticeable thing about her though was her smile. Full, crimson lips parted and white, straight teeth beaming at him jovially.

She was very pretty. And not in the least intimidating.

Hotch wasn't sure how to feel about that.

"No, of course. Though I have to admit this is probably the most informal you'll find me," he gestured to his casual polo shirt and ¾ khakis, "as my job calls for a certain amount of professionalism, as you can imagine." He smiled at her and noticed that, while her stance was open and confident, the worrying of her lip suggested an increased level of anxiety. Did she think he was hinting that she was unprofessional? Or was she worried about the prospect of working for someone that carried so much risk? He tested the waters, "Yours, however, may call for something a little less cherished; Jack is nothing if not active."

The smile was back, along with a short, relieved laugh and Aaron was grateful. He liked Eden so far, and better than that she already knew his son. There was a rapport there, separate from any other of Jack or Hotch's relationships.

And she seemed sweet. Something that was often underappreciated in society and harder to come by than you'd think.

"And I'm nothing if not ready to be challenged. Besides, coach," her amused glance flitted from his eyes to the whistle around his neck, "if soccer's his game then he's my kind of guy! How long has he been playing now?" Eden followed his lead to begin walking away from the young children who were clumsily practicing their drills and pulled her sunglasses from her head to perch on her face as they entered direct sunlight, Aaron's hand guiding her by the middle of her back.

He smiled fondly at the memory of Jack's first practice, noting the strange American term in her British accent, "Every Saturday for the past six months. I try to be here as much as possible, especially when there's a game. My co-worker, Dave," he gestured to an older man, still in good shape with obvious European ancestry, stood with a clipboard by the running children, "agreed to be my assistant coach but when we're away on a case and neither of us can make it they call in one of the other parents to lead and Jack's aunt Jessica brings him by, if she can."

They could still hear the sounds of training in wind, accompanied by laughs of younger children on the swings nearby and cries of 'higher! Higher!' as their parents attended to them. Eden was still smiling and Hotch couldn't help but think it was one of the nicest habits he'd come across in a long while.

He continued, "However, Jessica just accepted a new position in her law firm that no longer allows her the flexible hours she had before. It's the main reason I'm reaching out for full time help."

"I take it being called away is pretty common in your line of work then?" She didn't want to mention the Bureau, figuring she didn't know enough about American law enforcement to partake in a stimulating conversation about it.

Aaron laughed humourlessly, "Perk of the job. The thing I most want Jack to have in his childhood is a form of stability. Between Jessica and myself we managed that for a time, but with her new position and my career an adjustment has to be made. I think you could give him that." His eyes searched hers as they walked, penetrating through the frames on her face, "The fact that you're already familiar with him is an added bonus."

Eden nodded in understanding, unable to help the question circling her mind throughout their conversation but unwilling to bring it up. Last time Eden had been around, so had Jack's mother. Actively. "So what would my job entail, exactly?" She pushed the thought away.

"Around the clock care. I won't lie, I'm away from home much more than I'd like to be, ranging from two to seven days at a time. It doesn't happen always but the amount of time that it does would require you to be with Jack, night and day."

Hotch noticed a dark brow leap above her glasses, "So I'd be a live-in nanny?"

"Yes," he replied bluntly, and Eden got the feeling that beating around the bush was never a problem with the agent; symptomatic of his job, she figured, "You'd be living under my roof, free of charge, in order to be there when I'm called in at the last minute, which also happens more often than I'd like. Could you deal with that?"

Eden grinned, "I don't know; you don't sleepwalk or anything, do you? No chronic snoring? Obnoxious teenage neighbours with a penchant for heavy metal?"

Hotch laughed, but the profiler in him noted that she'd avoided answering the question, a technique to allow her time to process the information. "Not that I've ever been made aware of, on all counts. And if it makes you feel any better, you're room has en suite so no potential for embarrassing episodes there," she laughed and he added as an afterthought, "Should you choose to accept the position, of course. Salary is the same you'd earn for being the assistant teacher in Jack's class, again, since I heard a rumour they're looking to hire and you'd be eligible as my employee for every benefit offered by the Bureau. And I assure you, they're more than generous."

Eden let out a loud laugh, "Why, Agent Hotchner, are you attempting to bribe me?" Her head cocked to the side.

"That depends. Is it working?" He grinned, they're walk taking them round the bend of the park, allowing them to begin circling back to the training section.

"Shouldn't a Federal Agent know better?"

"When it comes to my family, I don't fight fair." Unbidden, the memory of Foyet and Haley's death drifted to the forefront of his mind, and Hotch clenched his fists as though he could feel the slip of blood between them. Eden noticed the seriousness in his demeanour and let her own worries rear a little.

"Be honest with me, Aaron – other than being there in every way I can for Jack, what else are you looking for from me? What is that you need that a hundred experienced applicants didn't give you that you think I can?"

She was more perceptive than he had given her credit for. Good. That levelled against the aura of innocence she conveyed. He just looked at her for a moment, and Eden could see the hint of surprise in the lifting of his features. She smiled, but this time with a closed mouth, almost ironically, "I'm studying for a PhD in Literature, Agent Hotchner – I know subtext when I see it."

They were half way back to their starting position now and Aaron shocked Eden by stopping them dead in their tracks, turning to face her straight on. Eden got the distinct impression she was facing an authority figure and put her sunglasses back on the top of her head, pushing dark chocolate curls out of her face. This was serious. And while Eden wasn't usually comfortable with stoic conservationists or heavy moments (often having to fight the uncontrollable urge to laugh manically for no apparent reason) she steeled herself for this one.

Because, she could tell, it was going to be a doozy.

"Haley told me once that there was a man that came into school to collect his daughter at the end of the day, only he didn't have any identification and the principle wouldn't let him take her." Eden nodded, remembering: none of the staff had ever seen him before and the lack of positive ID rendered them legally obligated to reject his claim, "He got violent, and moved to attack her. You stepped in front of her and took the blow."

"I can't believe you remember that." It was true, she had, but it had been her last week on placement and she knew that her turning up with a bruised face would disturb the children a lot less than if the principle did. She was supposed to be a figure of strength and stability for the school; if she looked injured, then the children would _feel_ injured. And Eden didn't want that. She started to explain that to Aaron but he cut her off.

"That speaks to a protective instinct within you that, in usual circumstances, would be worrying. Selfless acts like that are often the downfall of good people. For the caretaker of the son of an FBI agent however-"

"It's a prerequisite." Eden met his eyes, trying not to let her gaze wander as it often did when she was thinking. Staring aimlessly may not have been physically productive but Eden found it both mentally stimulating and strangely therapeutic. But she wasn't afforded that luxury as Hotch took the time to search her face for a reaction. Eden didn't have to wonder what he was looking for: Google had taught her that much in her search of him.

"I can teach you self-defence, at least enough to incapacitate an attacker and allow you time to remove Jack and yourself from the situation. I'll be on your speed-dial, a special line for emergencies that you'd only need to select in order to activate a GPS alert. I can have someone with you in minutes; seconds even." Eden folded her arms, a sudden chill coming over her, raising goose-bumps along the bare, pale skin of her arms. Arms that she realised looked incredibly skinny in light of the information the man in front of her had just re-laid. "I would love to be able to tell you that all of those things are for a far off, hypothetical situation, something you'll never actually need. Hopefully, something you won't need. But I'm not going to lie to you, there is a chance the situation will become very real. And the reason I want you is because I think you could handle it."

Inhaling deeply, Eden spoke quietly, not wanting to anger or upset him but feeling that she deserved an answer; "Did the hypothetical become reality for Haley?" He did bring her up first, after all.

Hotch schooled his features into a mask of no emotion and simply answered, "Yes."

Eden looked away from him this time and the profiler in Hotch told him to keep his eyes trained on her even as she did, a subconscious attempt to convince her to meet him there once again. But she was unsure. It was so much responsibility to consider. Her eyes found the children on the swings, carefree and cheerful, like her own childhood had been. Two parents, only child, well-loved and cosy. Only, her own mother had passed on when she'd turned five – _the same age as Jack was when Haley had passed _– and her father had dealt with it alone for so long. He'd coped, but it was hard.

She'd had an amazing childhood, in spite of that, her dad living off state benefits and the money the small IT job he'd worked from home. Didn't Jack deserve the same?

Her eyes found him, laughing on the makeshift pitch as he high-fived Dave, the assistant coach. He was such a lovely boy, could she really leave him now that she knew the potential danger he was in?

Could she really walk away and trust that someone else would protect him like she would now? Could she just leave him and have faith that there was someone out there better for this job?

Her eyes met Aaron's again.

"And how, exactly, does speed dial work again?"

XXXX

**Read and Review? Pleeeease?**


	3. Chapter 2: Pinna Coladas

**A/N- it's been a while, huh? Don't hurt me? Strangely I've had this written for a while – just never had the chance to post it but I hope you enjooooy!**

**Let me know what you think?**

**Disclaimer – if only Spencer was mine. Life would be a sea of perfect knowledge and weird behaviour… also, Buffy the Vampire Slayer isn't mine, though I do so enjoy using it as a reference…**

**XXXX**

_**I never knew…**_

_**That you like Pinna Coladas**_

_**And getting caught in the rain**_

_**And the feel of the ocean**_

_**And the taste of Champagne **_

_Escape, by Rupert Holmes_

XXXX

The rest of the hour had gone smoothly. Having purchased the promised caffeine boost from the small, wooden hut by the edge of the greenery, Hotch and Eden found a semi-comfortable park bench and continued to hammer out the details of their arrangement. It was during this negotiation that Aaron felt compelled to make a confession.

"You _hacked _me?"

Eden had thrown her head back in an exaggerated laugh, a loud laugh, and one that Hotch could tell stemmed from the very bottom of her stomach and bubbled up her throat. He couldn't help the semi-smile etching onto his face, an equal action to her reaction.

The corner of his eyebrow seemed to automatically quirk when he did this, and Eden wondered if he always looked so confused by his own happiness.

"You Googled me." He defended. Eden's eyes widened comically as she let loose a scoff.

"You asked me to meet you in a _park_! With a dark, wooded area! All I needed from the internet was the phrase 'he does not have plans to abduct you, drug you and perform weird scientific experiments on your conscious yet paralysed self!' It was completely justified!" She gesticulated dramatically as she spoke, coffee almost spilling from the small, disposable cup as she got a little too enthusiastic. _Almost. _Even accidentally, Eden didn't waste coffee.

"And all I wanted was that same peace of mind." Aaron shrugged a little, but Eden wasn't having any of it. As though they were six and she'd caught him stealing crayons from school, she inhaled an exaggerated breath:

"Lies and blasphemy! You and I both know that I wouldn't have been cleared for teaching if there'd been even the slightest suspicious speck on my record."

This time, the questioning look on his face was directed at her, "Slightest suspicious speck?"

"Alliteration. All the cool kids are doing it," she shrugged and took a swig from her beverage through a smile. Hotch chuckled, and while he always knew that outside of the BAU he was a more relaxed version of himself, he realised that he'd laughed a lot more than he thought he would that morning.

Though not as much as the time Rossi lost the coin toss for target practice. Hotch had never been so proud of Jack's aim.

"You've been away from teaching for over a year now, I had to be sure you hadn't spiralled." He informed her seriously and she rolled her ivy eyes.

"Oh please, you just wanted me to know that you can access embarrassing high school photos of me at any time. You're a sly one, Agent Hotchner." She bumped his shoulder. Considering the fact that they'd met not even sixty minutes before, it signalled to Hotch that she had learned to trust him. And that she was an affectionate person. Physical contact made her more comfortable - that Aaron was male heralded that Eden had no adversity to his gender. Her relationship to her father and/or other men in her life had been positive. That was good.

He laughed and rubbed his own cup gently between his hands, "It never hurts to have the upper hand." Eden showed her agreement with a tilted nod and amused exhale. "And if a bowl-cut isn't leverage, I don't know what is."

Eden had choked on the coffee she'd been sipping, laughed and slapped his upper arm jokingly as Hotch enjoyed her reaction. "That is an unforgivable abuse of power: I don't know if I can work for a man of such loose moral standing." She stood and moseyed over to the dustbin a few feet to her left to dump her cup, before turning, hands on her hips and a grin on her face, towards him.

"Sure you can," his elbows were on his knees as his body leant forward, swirling the dregs of his coffee hypnotically, but his dark eyes were amused (eyebrow still raised) and matching her gaze, "Otherwise those photos may just find themselves in the Washington Post…"

"Isn't blackmail a crime?"

Aaron's half smile was crooked, "Depends how good you are at it. And I don't do things by half." He stood and made his way to her to dump his own rubbish. She glared at him childishly with narrowed eyes and lips.

"Don't need to be a profiler to figure that one out. Meanie Beanie." She resisted the urge to stick her tongue out and wondered if that had been the best way to go about proving she was responsible enough to handle the job she was applying for. Well, had been selected to apply for.

But she would have to be herself sooner or later. Not a lot a places to hide when you live with a person, own en suite facility or not…

"Wow. Are you rubber and I'm glue, too?" He teased and she cocked her head with that pretty smile.

"Of all the insults I could have chosen, aren't you relieved I chose one that won't land Jack a time-out if he picks up on it?"

Hotch grinned at the underlying sentiment.

"Is this you accepting?"

Eden wrinkled her nose and shoved him slightly, "Don't look so smug about it." He laughed, though mainly out of relief than anything else. It felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and Eden felt that weight settle onto hers, "There's always a Miss Summers around to save the day, I suppose!" She joked, an attempt to lighten the load she suddenly felt, when humour struck, "And you're training me in self-defence, yeah?"

"As a precaution." Hotch nodded as they began to traverse the path back to the excitable soccer team, his eyes immediately seeking out his son.

"Soooo," she began, and her tone made Hotch wary, "Following the metaphor, that would make you my Giles. My Watcher. You, in effect, are Watcher Hotchner." Eden couldn't stop the giggle bubbling from between her lips, a grin that spoke all kind of mischief on her face.

Hotch supressed half of his smile but the amused tilt still reached his lips, forming a crooked smirk, "We won't be following the metaphor." He shook his head as Eden let out a loud laugh, practically bouncing from the thrill of her discovery.

"I'm an English student, Aaron. I literally have a _degree_ in following metaphors. So stop being such a spoil sport and graciously accept defeat." She nudged him again and Hotch raised his eyebrows, "There's no escaping me now."

"I think I feel a severe case of buyer's remorse coming on." He commented dryly.

Eden threw her head back as she laughed, having to clumsily rescue her sunglasses as they slipped off the back of her head.

Ironically, Hotch hadn't been so sure about anything in years.

XXXX

Things moved swiftly from there.

It took two minutes for Eden to fall right back in love with Jack, two days for her to move into their beautiful two-storey house settled in a sweet col-de-sac and two weeks for the unorthodox new family to fall into a stable routine.

During that period of time, a lot of information had passed between the three of them, more than the internet could have ever yielded.

Well, more than it could have yielded to Hotch or Eden at least. The latter had yet to meet a certain technical analyst.

For instance, Eden learned that Jack rocked at hide-and-seek. Seriously rocked. It had taken her _3 hours _at one point to find him, and he'd only turned up because he'd gotten hungry and wandered back into the kitchen for some cookies. She was _amazed. _Two days later, she'd finally discovered _one _of his little hiding zones – but only because she'd literally face-planted the floor. Right in front of it.

It was then that she learned he was also an extremely sympathetic character.

He loved baked beans and would eat them with everything: on toast, mac 'n' cheese, on a bed of rice, on their own… he'd have them in a bowl to dip his crisps into… Eden had caught him once trying to work the can opener to get into a tin to pour over ice-cream. Not for the first time she was grateful Aaron had bought a manual opener, even if (pathetically) it did hurt her hand when she used it.

And her room was his new favourite place in the house. She wasn't quite sure why. Maybe just because it was shiny and new and his curiosity wouldn't rest until he'd memorised every detail of it to feel comfortable. Maybe it was because he wanted to mark his territory and reassure himself it was still his house; that she wasn't taking over. But, if she was being completely honest, something told Eden that it was because of how feminine her room was. Aaron had made a beautiful home with Jack, there was no doubt about that, but there was something, well, absent for lack of a better word.

Throw cushions on beds and the living room furniture; candles and flowers on empty surfaces; weird glass bowls filled with little shiny pebbles that really did nothing but cost money and take up space… the little things.

Things her room was full of.

He even liked to use her bathroom rather than the family one, and twice now she'd only managed to convince him to have a bath by promising to light some scented candles for him and fill the tub with her bubble bath…

Aaron had just been grateful she'd managed to get him in clean water at all and had let out a tired sigh once she'd come back down the stairs, having left Jack to play with his Spiderman in the bath. The doors inside the house were all open and they could vaguely hear his sound effects from their standing point. If he shouted, they'd hear.

It had been a long day at the office.

Eden noticed that about Aaron. When Jack was around his full and undivided attention was on him and their home. He didn't mention work, he let the house phone go to voicemail so as to not be interrupted by anything trivial and as soon as he stepped through the door he removed his suit jacket and left his briefcase by the coatrack, untouched.

Aaron was amazing at compartmentalising, for which she was glad. She honestly had no idea how to carry a conversation about murder or serial killers and didn't really feel like trying…

There were some things she honestly didn't want to know.

He was also a fantastic cook: and Eden couldn't hide her surprise when he'd whipped up a perfect beef stroganoff in an hour. She was, truthfully, unbelievably jealous – she couldn't even cut sandwiches in a straight line, for goodness sake. When she'd admitted this he had chuckled, wiping his hands on a tea towel before popping some raw carrot into his mouth and shrugging.

"My brother, Sean, is a chef in New York City. Every now and again he drops by and teaches me something new. Ask me how to scramble an egg and I couldn't tell you, but soufflé? No problem."

Eden had wiggled her eyebrows comically, "Ooh la la! Soufflé! This brother single, by any chance?"

Aaron was chopping onion at the time but had paused to look up at her, a warning look on his face, "And stupid. I'm not letting him within ten feet of you: it took me long enough to get you here, there's no way I'm letting him jeopardise that for Jack."

She laughed, "Long enough? It took you an hour: less than, really, since we were back in time to see the penalty shootout practice! You consider that a time consuming challenge?"

"Most of my suspects crack sooner than you did." He added the vegetables to the pot.

"That's because, to them, you're scary. All 'no nonsense, no compromise' - but you can't hide your inner marshmallow from me, Watcher Hotchner! I know you're all gooey-goodness really!"

He just shook his head in reply.

He was also the ultimate father, which wasn't such a surprise, but that sentiment didn't simply stop at Jack. He'd already veered her wordlessly away from the flirtatious checkout boy at the local grocery store, had told her to stop buying sweets because she _always_ spoiled her dinner by eating them in the afternoon and if she was up when he'd gotten home past midnight then he'd quirked an eyebrow and simply stated; 'don't you have to be up in the morning?'

But honestly, Eden loved it. It made her feel like the old days back at her home, when her own dad had caught her sneaking in past curfew or stealing biscuits for breakfast. It was comforting.

She felt protected.

And, y'know, he had a gun so it was justified really…

Hotch himself was surprised by how well he'd taken to the situation. Originally, the thought of a stranger living in his house and taking care of his child had made his mind twist. It was uncomfortable: and Hotch didn't exactly trust easily in the simplest of situations.

But Eden had a quality that he genuinely couldn't describe. The fact that she approached everything with good intentions and a smile on her face made her warm and inviting; yet, she was innocent and, truthfully, childish enough to not replace Haley's position in their house. If anything, she was more of a sister or juvenile auntie than a mother figure.

But she loved without question. In fact, Aaron was sure he'd never come across someone who truly loved so blindly as Eden. It was the thing he both adored and worried about the most concerning her relationship with Jack: if she was too trusting then it could be a fatal mistake. Hotch was trying to figure out a way to make her more aware of societal dangers without ruining her charming innocence…

It was proving to be a challenge.

But the more he learned about her, the more he thought she was worth the effort.

She was intellectual but an arts student through and through – she had no interest in science and anything beyond high school maths escaped her. But she could quote and relate Shelley, Milton and Pullman in one swift argument. Her knowledge of American history was sparse but she knew everything there was to know about the line of succession in the British monarchy and its ancestry. Her knowledge of philosophy was steady, she knew enough Ancient Greek mythology to bring it into modern conversations and she could speak fluent French.

But ask her anything about Einstein's Theory of Relativity and it was like staring at a blank slate. Nothing there. Cue tumbleweed.

She was energetic and had no problem keeping up with Jack at all. He'd been so enthusiastic when he'd recounted their first day at the park; rolling down hills, playing catch, competing on the monkey bars, playing British Bulldog (though he'd had no idea what that was). That night, Jack had been out before Eden even had the chance to finish his story.

She loved sports and had already clued Jack into the British football/soccer system and had even gotten him into playing quick cricket and rounders. She'd told him that she'd been on the netball, badminton and field hockey teams at her school, college and university and could run rings around Jack (though, admittedly, not quite like she used to be able to.) And yet she loved junk food. Chocolate was her biggest vice, even more so than coffee.

Hotch had learned well that she didn't share chocolate.

She would read anything she could get her hands on, ranging from Jack's school books to trashy celebrity magazines she picked up in store. And had a word a day that she had to use at least three times – she'd even involved Jack in that game and already his vocabulary was extending.

She could bake but couldn't cook. She was graceful walking in heels but tripped over thin air in flat shoes. It was only August and she'd already started her count down for Christmas…

And Eden _loved_ people.

He just hoped that wouldn't attract the wrong kind of people.

XXXX

Eden looked up at him, eyes wide and helpless, glossed with despair. "Why are you doing this to me?"

Shaking his head, Aaron smiled and set down a round of toast, yoghurt and a fruit cup on the breakfast bar in front of her, immune to her pouting. "It's for your own good, Edie."

"But it's a Sunday. Sunday _morning_. The Sabbath is holy and sacred and protected by God's Law and I'm fairly certain deities trump FBI chiefs." She viciously bit into the bread.

Hotch quirked an eyebrow, "But out of the two, God has more mercy. Now be quiet and eat your breakfast, you're going to need the energy." Eden narrowed her eyes playfully.

"You suck."

Sparked with amusement, Hotch's eyes danced, "You know, I don't remember Buffy ever complaining this much."

Eden swallowed hastily, expression lively.

"Nu-uh! You don't get to follow the metaphor now! Not since you jumped ship and abandoned me to the supposed care of one of your colleagues! You have been demoted. You are no longer Giles, you are Wesley. And trust me, Buffy bitches at Wesley."

He dried his hands on a dishtowel as he faced her over the counter, "Please tell me this is not the wealth of knowledge you're planning to pass on to my son? Buffy the Vampire Slayer factoids?"

Eden tilted her head and swallowed her mouth of yogurt, "Wasn't planning it but now you've brought it up that does sound like great blackmail material…"

"Bowl-cut."

And again, Hotch received a glare.

"What's that about a bowl-cut?" Eden heard from behind her and she closed her eyes briefly in mortification, opening them to stick her tongue out at Hotch's grin before spinning her chair around to face the newcomer.

"Trust me, you don't want to know." She managed to smile at the dark skinned, handsome man before her. A very tall, very muscular man, now that she looked a little closer. And she was supposed to learn how to defend herself against him?

Now she really wanted to go back to bed.

"And by that," Hotch chimed in, "She means _she_ really doesn't want you to know."

She spun her head round, eyes narrow, "You know, I can recite every line from the first episode – maybe the script will accidentally find its way into Jack's bedtime reading. Every day this month."

"I know where your chocolate stash is hidden."

Hotch smirked with victory as she gasped and turned fully to face him, her new defence trainer snickering a little behind her.

"You wouldn't dare."

He lifted his brow.

"Care to test that theory?"

Eden opened her mouth, closed it, parted her lips a second time before shaking her head with a huff and crossing her arms. "Just you wait until I've learned these karate moves, Commander – then you better watch yourself. You will never be safe. I know where you sleep."

Hotch laughed and shook his head, before his colleague tutted behind her, "Threatening a Federal Agent? You're gonna need some serious moves to back that up, girl."

Eden quirked an eyebrow, "Up for the challenge, Hercules?"

He grinned, "Just don't turn on your teacher, Princess, and you got yourself a deal."

Hotch shook his head, "Maybe introducing you two wasn't the best idea."

"Well technically you haven't yet," Eden poked fun, grinning at her friend, "Where are your manners, SSA Hotchner?"

"Apparently in the same vacuum as my logic." Eden laughed at this retort, tightening her high ponytail and tucking a stray curl from her face. She thought this man was attractive – she did have eyes, after all – but he just didn't do it for her.

Eden didn't have a type. Not really – she liked what most girls liked, in one sense – nice smile, sense of humour, intelligence…

But as for what that package came in? Eden had no true preference that she could label. Someone either made her squirm or they didn't.

This man didn't. But that didn't mean she was about to dismiss him out of hand. She liked having friends.

And in Eden's mind, the more, the merrier was certainly a rule to live by.

"Eden this is Agent Derek Morgan of the Behavioural Analysis Unit at Quantico; Derek, this is Eden Summers, Jack's new nanny and the perpetual thorn in my side."

She shot him a cheeky grin, "You know you love me."

"Or I've learned to tolerate you." Hotch smiled back at her teasingly.

Derek laughed and slapped his Chief on the shoulder, "Well in Hotch-Speak, that's practically the same thing anyway." Eden let loose a laugh this time, feeling more awake following the morning banter and introductions and hopped down from her stool, pulling her yoga-pants up a little as she did just to be sure to remover the possibility of an embarrassing situation.

Well, one embarrassing situation at least. She was about to hit the mat with a man twice her body mass. Something told her she was not about to walk away from the morning unscathed.

"Ready to get this show on the road, Princess? We got a lot of basics to cover before the morning's out."

Smiling, hands on hips, Eden gave a quick nod, "Sure. Let's go teach me how to defend myself from maniacal tyrants." She winked at Hotch playfully as she walked with Derek out the back door.

"And Unsubs too, preferably!" They heard Hotch call from behind and laughed, the sunshine catching them delightfully as Derek set up a mat on the grassy expanse of the garden.

Eden began stretching as Derek levelled it out on the ground, glancing at her as he conversed; "You and Hotch seemed to have hit it off pretty well."

She grinned, grabbing one foot behind her, "Yeah, I definitely got lucky. He's a wonderful man, and not to mention how great Jack is. I love it here."

"Even with the 8AM weekends?" Derek sent her a teasing grin as he began to stretch out his own muscles.

She let out a laugh, trying not to squint too much in the path of the sun, allowing the light to catch the spark in her eyes, "When I can break a tree in half with the sheer force of one hand, I know it'll be worth it."

Agent Morgan grinned back at her, "Well for today, why don't we just start with your breathing and flexibility?"

"You trying to make a girl blush, Hercules?"

He laughed at her teasing and approached the mat on the opposite side to her, facing her directly. "Some things don't require effort."

Eden let loose a loud laugh, "Or modesty, apparently."

"I'm a much bigger fan of honesty. Now, deep breath in, hold it for a second – great, now bend over and try to touch your toes."

Before she could even try, Eden had already begun laughing again. Derek had quirked an eyebrow but looked on in amusement as dimples appeared by the side of her smile.

"Tell me that little giggle isn't about what I think it's about."

Eden smiled cheekily as her laughter subsided, "Not used to that reaction?"

"Nope," He smirked in reply, "But I can work with anything." She shook her head at Derek's response, but bent over all the same to complete his order effortlessly. All that sports training hadn't amounted to nothing, after all.

"You say that now, but just wait until you've seen my attempt at a right-hook. If you don't throw the towel in then, I will truly believe you to be a mythical hero. Pathetic doesn't even cover it."

Derek shrugged and crossed his arms, "Maybe so, but from what I've heard," she exhaled and slowly stood upright again, face relaxed and eyes open wide, "You're worth it."

**No Spence again, I know – I'm terrible. Bear with me, I am establishing a foundation. Meanwhile, hope you enjoyed it and the next one won't be too long :)**

**Review? Pretty please?**


	4. Chapter 3: Wild Child

**A/N: I'm updating! Quickly too! Repay me in reviews? Show me some love? Pretty please?**

**Though many thanks to my reviewers so far – this one's for you! Much love :) **

**Disclaimer: I want hiiiiiiiiiim.**

_Gotta break it loose,_

_Gonna keep 'em movin' wild__  
__Gonna keep a swingin' baby__  
__I'm a real wild child___

_Well, I'm a real wild one__  
__An I like a wild fun__  
__In a world gone crazy__  
__Everything seems hazy__  
__I'm a wild one__  
__Ooh yeah I'm a wild one_

_**Real Wild Child, by Joan Jett and The Blackhearts**_

**XXXX**

Eden was not kidding about her right-hook.

Derek knew that laughing at her was not the best way to go about building her confidence but it couldn't be helped – and Eden had no pretentions to grandeur when it came to defensive moves. She'd laughed first.

And Derek had learned fast that Eden was nothing if not irresistibly joyful.

It was contagious. Her personality, her energy, her complete abandonment: she was like a bubble of dream-world in a violent reality. But Derek wasn't quite sure how to translate or explain that to the rest of the team. Or if maybe he was exaggerating it all himself and had just been on the job too long.

The BAU wasn't a place to go if one needs reassurance in mankind.

"You had a little too much sugar today, Princess? Smuggling candy Hotch doesn't know about?" He'd asked, laughing as she shook her head at her own hopelessness, on a come down from her giggle-fit.

"Are you kidding? You should see me when I _am_ on a sugar-high! This is nothing, my friend."

"Girls like you should come with a warning label."

She grinned, flicking a curl from her eye line and squinting slightly in the sun; "Girl's like me? There are more?"

"Not exactly," he grinned, "but crazy girls are my lot in life, it seems."

Eden half-smiled and raised an eyebrow, "Then you're a lucky one, Hercules, because they're the best kind."

Watching as Garcia bee-lined towards him, styled in a hot pink dress and turquoise tights, her sunshine yellow heels clicking as she went and purple fringe falling across her cat-eye glasses, he couldn't help but wholeheartedly agree.

She handed over one of two coffee thermos' to him and perched on the edge of the desk he sat by. "Spill, handsome."

Derek cocked his head to the side, "Spill? That's all I get? No, 'I'll show you a good morning, hot stuff?' No, 'Working up a storm today, my chocolate thunder?' Spill is all you're showing me? That ain't right, Babygirl."

"Don't stall. Just talk." She widened her eyes slightly and looked pointedly down on him, as the rest of the team began to file in and set up their desks for the day.

"Talk about what, Beautiful? How you're killing it in those shoes today?" He wiggled his eyebrows with a cheeky grin and Garcia smiled at his flirtations, in spite of herself.

"Some things don't need saying, they just are, my Masterpiece. Now quit with the flattery – though not for long – and start filling us in on Hotch's new housemate! What's going on? Are they doing the nasty in the playroom?"

"What?! Babygirl, what are you talking about?! Of course not!"

Garcia tilted her head, "The kitchen, then? The shower? Don't tell me it's the study, that's so Kennedy and Marilyn I can barely contain myself!" Morgan shook his head, a smile of disbelief across his face.

"They're not doing any nasty, anywhere so get your mind out of the gutter, Babygirl."

Emily suddenly appeared by his other side, "That's an awful quick defence – maybe there's a reason Mr Ladies Man doesn't want to picture it…" She grinned her teasing smile as she peered through his case files, casually switching a few that she knew would be better suited to him and vice versa.

"And maybe that reason is because it's not true."

"What's not true?" Spencer joined in, removing his messenger bag from his shoulders and placing it on his desk, attention on the three conversing members of his team. He could see Morgan exasperatingly shaking his head, Emily in her gentle prying stance and Garcia, as usual, pert and alert to any new information. It seemed personal, not work related, but certainly interesting. "Something going on?"

"Derek has a crush on Hotch's new nanny." Spencer's brow rose and he managed to resist pointing out that Hotch didn't require a nanny, and technically the correct phrasing would have been 'Jack's new nanny'. Before he could though, Garcia continued, speaking over Derek's spluttering too. "Is she pretty? Sexy? Does she give you butterflies in your stomach and make you squirm like a five-year-old girl?"

Emily and Garcia shared a laugh while Spencer tilted his head, observing, wondering if that strange 'kissing song' was about to come up again. Morgan let loose a sigh before answering anything, putting down his coffee mug and booting up his computer. "I don't have a crush on her."

"But you do think she's pretty." Emily stated, catching Reid's eye as she profiled Derek's closed-off body language. Avoiding the question. Psycho-analysis 101.

"Oh! Will there be little chocolate babies running round for me to love, adore and corrupt?" Morgan snapped his head in Garcia's direction, looked at her as though she were crazy, before swiftly turning to Emily, and then back again, like watching a tennis match.

"There will be no babies, mama and you need to stop hoping there'll be duplicates of me. There's only one Derek Morgan." A silence followed, during which Morgan didn't need to look up in order to know his friends were awaiting the rest of his reply. He sighed and rolled his eyes before lolling back in his spinning chair. "Look, the kid's beautiful; a blind man could see it. But she's just that: a kid. Hotch isn't gonna go there, they're like family, and I sure as hell am not about to touch a 23-year-old student that's living with my boss."

"Oh, I get it," Emily responded, "She a little too pupil for the teacher?"

Garcia laughed and Morgan smiled but shook his head, "What does that even mean?"

Secretly, Spencer was glad he'd asked and it wasn't his own naivety causing a lack of understanding, but rather Emily's own mixed metaphors. He furrowed his eyebrows.

"It means," Garcia began, turning her head to look at Spencer, catching him with her gaze and holding him still, like a deer caught in headlights. Spencer felt like he should be worried about what was coming, "Would our Boy-Genius here be a better match for the Minxy-Minder?"

"Minxy-Minder?" Spencer mimicked.

"You're losing your touch, Mama." Derek agreed. She slapped him on the shoulder before standing and turning to face Spencer fully.

"I'm working on it; she's a new development, give a girl some time. Jeez. But what do you say, Boy-Wonder? She's not too far off your age and you could do with a little lovin' at the end of these brutal work days."

Emily let out a little sound of agreement, "Tell me about it; we all could."

Spencer fought the heat trying to get to his cheeks and sat down, attempting to look distracted, "Five years, in terms of relationships when young, especially pre-thirty, is actually a distinctive amount of time between couples, given particularly that women change predominantly through ages 25 to 30 whereas men develop the most between ages 30 and 35."

"So that's a 'no', then?" Emily grinned.

"Ah, my young protégée, you will learn that love is nothing if not the be all and end all, no matter how many facts are floating up in that endless universe of rationality you call a brain." Garcia sent him a look of fake sympathy before taking a swig of her coffee. Spencer rolled his eyes.

"Since all you've told me is her age, and that she's considered attractive by societal standards, there's hardly bound to be any kind of non-rational sentiment applied. You've given me nothing else to go on."

Morgan nodded, leaning back, "Kid's got a point. Why haven't you done your thing and magicked up her details? Would have saved us this torment, at the least."

"Torment? You do me an injustice – I'm nothing if not the final curtain." She winked at him, "Besides, Hotch had her records sealed."

Morgan shrugged, "So unseal them."

"Did you not hear me? I said that Hotch himself had her details sealed. As in, 'Do Not Disturb.' 'Enter at your own peril.' 'Danger: High Voltage.' And I like my job, thank you very much." Garcia gesticulated, eyes wide.

"Course you do, you get to see me every day." Derek grinned, while Emily rolled her eyes with a very unsubtle, 'Ew.'

She followed, "Guess you'll just have to learn as you go like the rest of us, Penelope: slow and steady."

Garcia groaned, "But that's so _human_."

"Welcome to our world, Babygirl."

**XXXX**

Eden stood by the door, hands on hips, "Go-Bag?"

"Check."

"Jacket in case the weather turns? Or they send you to the artic?"

"Check."

"Your mobile?"

"Always."

"And money for lunch?"

Hotch sighed and tilted his head, amused, "Yes, mother, I have the means to feed myself, just as I have the means of clothing myself and the capacity to look after myself."

"For now, but if the big kids at school try to steal your dinner you go right ahead and tell the teacher – bullies are like spiders, they're more scared of you as you are of them." Eden grinned as she handed him a tupplewear box she'd kept hidden behind her on the table by the door. "Do me a favour and take these to your beloved team for me, will you?"

He quirked an eyebrow, "Cookies?"

"Double Chocolate Chip, Honey and Nut, Oatmeal and Raisin and Peanut-Butter and Jelly." He continued to look at her sceptically, examining her as her eyes became wide with innocence and her face nonplussed, "What? Sugar makes people happy. And in your line-of-work, people need all the happy they can get. Ergo," She gestured to the box, "Sugar."

Eden knew she was dealing with a profiler. Knew that he was probably seeing through her and gathered that there was more to it than she was letting on. She inwardly cringed as she thought of someway to deter him from digging deeper…

"And maybe I'm hoping Derek might overindulge himself a little and the next time he tries to make me eat mat he'll be a little too out of breath from his own eating?"

Hotch chuckled, "You know you're putting my team in jeopardy if that happens?"

"Not if works _really_ well; then you can all just use him as a human shield…"

Eden smiled innocently, while Hotch shook his head with a grin, "I'll pass them on."

"Thank you, kindly. Now, come on," she checked her delicate silver wrist watch, one Hotch noted he never saw her without. _A family heirloom, more than likely. _"It's time to face the music!" She smiled, a little sadly, as though she didn't want him to go. And truthfully, she didn't… _Because what if he never came back? _She shut her eyes briefly, squeezed them together for a second and then resumed normality with a clearer mind. "Jack! Come on, love, it's time to say good-bye to Super Man!"

The hurried tapping of little feet came through from the playroom as Jack, still in his pyjamas, came running through with full momentum and jumped into his father's arms.

"Daddy isn't Super Man!" He corrected her, as Eden rose her brow, "He's an FBI Agent! And they're better than Super Man!" She smiled as the father and son shared a grin – the same grin, she noted – and held close to each other.

"That's right, little buddy, time to catch some bad guys. You be good for Eden while I'm gone, ok? And don't eat too many of the other batch of cookies she thinks she's hidden in the tool-cupboard." He an amused glance at her fake look of unawareness, eyes looking upward and a silent whistle falling from posed lips. "And when you play hide-and-seek, don't make it too hard on her: she's still a rookie."

Eden laughed as Jack nodded solemnly, "I know, daddy; but she'll learn soon, right?"

"I hope so, buddy, I hope so." Hotch laughed and Jack grinned, as the former gave the boy a kiss on the forehead.

"Alright, you devils, you've had your fun! Now off with you, Inspector Gadget: time to take on the world again." She smiled as she picked Jack up herself and he hugged her round the neck, feeling pathetically short as she realised he really wasn't that far off the ground in her arms.

_Well, at least if I drop him, it won't be too painful…_

Again, she squeezed her eyes shut. _Drop him? You are not going to drop him! Stop thinking of the worst-case scenarios, jeez! _

"I'll see you later guys, have fun and take care of each other," he looked at them pointedly, "And stay out of trouble."

They both grinned in return, Jack in his little Peter Pan pjs and Eden, dark curls a mess and dressed in leggings and an old, grey University of Cambridge top that was obviously well loved over the years. They were the picture of serenity for Hotch and he smiled. "We'll try, but I can't make any promises," Eden teased, as Jack continued to grin and wave.

"Bye, daddy!"

"Go get 'em, tiger."

Hotch laughed as he left, closing the door behind him, already excited about opening it again on his return.

**XXXX**

"Why would Hotch have her files sealed?" Spencer questioned, tearing his eyes from a case file in his hands. About a minute of silence had passed: well, silence on his part, Garcia and Morgan had fallen into typical flirtatious banter and Emily had begun to work on consulting cases for local PD's as he had.

But the question had been nagging at him. What was there to hide?

Emily smiled, "Why are you so interested?" Spencer didn't miss the look that his three older teammates shared but chose to ignore it. He shrugged, trying to appear indifferent.

"Just curious. It seems a little strange, is all."

Morgan shrugged, "Probably because he knew that we'd use it to our advantage… I did hear something a bowl-cut yesterday, though."

Garcia and Emily winced before laughing slightly, shaking their heads; "We've all been there." Emily sympathised, while Garcia shook her head.

"Speak for yourself, sweetness: I've always been Goldilocks – no kitchen utensils for me, cheri."

"What's a bowl-cut?" Spencer asked and Morgan just grinned like a cat.

"You don't want to know, Pretty Boy, trust me."

Spencer just lifted his brow and took his word for it.

"It is a little weird, though," Emily piped in, "I don't think he ever did that before. Where Haley's records sealed?"

Garcia tilted head, unsure, "I never really had to check – she was here before I was so I didn't feel the need to bother… except after Foyet, then her and Jack had their records wiped…"

Emily nodded a little in understanding, while a small silence fell over them for a moment. Spencer was the one to break it. "It is curious though…"

"If it's such a big deal, kid," he nodded toward the opening doors to the bullpen, just in time to see Hotch hurry through, briefcase in hand and… a packed lunch, maybe? "Ask him yourself."

It goes without saying that the subject ceased at that moment.

"Morning." Hotch glossed as he paced over to them all, receiving various hellos in return, and a simple wave from Spencer. "JJ dropping Henry off at school today?"

Garcia nodded, "Will's working a double at the station." She tilted her head and eyed the box in his hand, "You brought your own lunch, sir?"

Morgan and Emily hid teasing grins with their coffee cups, while Spencer chimed in, "Actually there's just been a huge scandal in England about finding horse-meat in certain beef products in supermarkets that's called awareness to the fact that if the food is served to you there's no knowing where it's come from. A packed lunch is probably a smart idea."

Hotch looked between them all as he placed the box in the middle of them, "Actually, they're for you guys, from Eden."

"Ooooh," Morgan dived in, pulling away the lid to release a delicious aroma of baked goods and at least 20 cookies of differing varieties. Spencer felt his mouth begin to water and became very aware of how meagre his breakfast was. His breakfast having been espresso. "Well my day just started looking up."

He extracted one and moaned as he took a bite, Garcia watching him with a sultry look. Emily smiled, "That's nice of her. You hire Martha Stewart or something?"

"I hope not," Hotch replied, "I don't have the time to look for her replacement if it turns out she's done a turn in state pen." He began to head away from them and up the stairs to his office, "It's all about the maths, apparently: sugar equals happy, 'ergo, sugar.'" Morgan grinned, rubbed his hands together and then reached for another, "But try to limit yourself, Morgan, for the sake of the team."

Emily, Garcia and Spencer laughed as Derek looked shocked, "And what's that supposed to mean, Chief?"

But Hotch had already disappeared into his office.

Spencer reached for a cookie as playful banter continued between Emily and Morgan about the latter's insatiable appetite when something caught his eye. A napkin.

Or, more specifically, the note that had been written on it.

Garcia watched him carefully as Spencer unfurled the cloth and read it in the blink of an eye, an automatic profile forming in his head. The backward slant, projecting a laidback nature; the upward tilt of capital Ts, insinuating enthusiasm; the curls and loops of her lowercase letters signifying a youthful and exaggerated disposition –

His thoughts were cut short by Garcia.

"Whatch-ya got there, handsome?"

"It's a note," Spencer explained, catching Morgan and Emily's attention too, not taking his eyes from the cloth, "It's addressed to 'The A-Team.'"

Morgan let out a laugh, "That's definitely from Eden; what's it say?"

Spencer began to read aloud:

_The A-Team,_

_I hope you don't mind the underhand means of communication, however, I thought this mission would call for the unexpected and the cunning._

_And I don't have anybody's cell numbers._

_Carrier Pigeon has fallen through for me before._

_As you probably already know, it's Aaron's birthday next Sunday and I would like to cordially invite you all to a barbecue-garden-party in celebration of this momentous occasion._

_No need to bring anything but yourselves and loved ones._

_And maybe someone who knows how to barbecue?_

_Hercules, I'm looking at you here._

_Festivities to commence around 2._

_Hope to see you all there with bells on!_

_Much love, and excitement in abundance,_

_Eden._

_P.S – hope you enjoy the cookies (especially you, Morgan. Come on, now: eat up.)_

_P.P.S – Really looking forward to meeting you all._

_P.P.P.S – don't tell Aaron. Mission to remain secret at all costs._

The team looked to each other, having laughed through parts of the note, with incredulous faces and expressions of surprise. "Well," Emily began, "She certainly sounds unique." Spencer nodded in agreement, a small, strange smile on his face.

"Oh trust me, she's one of a kind," Derek grinned, "You're gonna love her."

"I think Garcia already does," Emily laughed, pointing at Penelope who was looking in awe from her half-eaten cookie to the note in Reid's hands.

"She is my idea of heaven." She snapped out of it before pointedly looking between Morgan and Reid, "I don't care which one of you it is, but one of you needs to marry this girl. Now. And start having miniature Genius' or Studs because the more people who can bake like this, the more love there will be in the world."

Derek laughed deeply, shaking his head while Reid just tiled his head contemplatively, "Sugar does equal happy, apparently." He murmured, before training his eyes back on the letter in his hands. He was intrigued, there was no denying it.

"Oh, JJ's here," Garcia interrupted, jolting them all from the moment, "To the conference room we go, guys." She stood pin-straight, grabbed the case files she'd thrown on Morgan's desk and the box of cookies from the middle, tucking them under her arm as she led them through to the round table, knocking on Rossi and Hotch's doors as she went.

JJ entered the bullpen, "Morning guys; did I miss much?"

Emily laughed as Derek and Reid shared a sly, amused look; "You could say that," Emily answered, picking her jacket off the back of her chair and heading up the stairs next to JJ, "I'll fill you in on the jet."

The boys followed, walking briskly, shadowing the scent of baked goods almost hypnotically. Derek pretended not to notice Reid surreptitiously placing the napkin in his trouser pocket; for the time being, at least. He grinned to himself.

_Now, that _is_ interesting._

**XXXX**

Jack clutched Eden's hand tightly as they traversed the busy sidewalk, concentrating more on the mint-choc-chip icecream cone in his hand than the shop windows, which contained a medley of things: flowers, clothes, antiques, furniture, antique furniture. Eden knew she should have been exploring the exhibits too, but was distracted by her own bubblegum flavoured treat.

It was a good day.

The sun was shining and warm on her skin, the skimming breeze just heavy enough to keep a comfortable temperature but light enough to avoid blowing up the loose skirt of her white summer-dress. Dark sunglasses perched on her nose and every now and then she caught Jack looking at his reflection in them, tilting his head and getting confused at whether he was speaking to her or himself when he addressed her.

They'd been walking for a couple of hours when they'd stopped by a cute diner for a bite for lunch and then continued their stroll (a stroll that should have been a mission-based hunt to uncover a momentous present for his dad for Hotch's birthday) with an icecream for extra momentum.

The gift-hunt wasn't going stupendously, but the two were definitely enjoying themselves – and that at least meant the day was fruitful in her eyes.

She loved spending time with Jack.

"Ok, so let's see: daddy already has a watch," Jack nodded in agreement with a quick 'ya-huh', "he has clothes, ties, pens, a briefcase that he loves, enough aftershave to single-handedly destroy the Ozone layer, thanks to your Aunt Jessica's traditional Christmas presents…" She sighed, and took a pause to lick at her icecream, "What to get the man who has everything?"

Jack just continued with his dessert.

"Any ideas, young padawan?"

The nickname lit a spark in his eyes, "Can we watch Star Wars when we're done-" he paused for a second to concentrate, "When we're done pe-rus-ing?"

Eden grinned in pride, "Absolutely! But we need to keep perusing for now until we find something for daddy's birthday, ok?" She subtly corrected his pronunciation but was touched by how well he'd taken to her word-of-the-day ritual.

Jack nodded triumphantly, a grin on his messy face. Eden laughed and stopped them for a second, turning to face him and crouching in order to wipe the sticky dessert from around his mouth with a babywipe stored in her handbag, taking his icecream in order to clean his hands too.

She had come well prepared.

Jack began to laugh and Eden grinned back, quirking an eyebrow, "What's so funny, mister?"

"It tickles," Jack raised his shoulders, as though he were a tortoise ready to pop his head in his shell, still smiling.

"Oh," Eden nodded, "It tickles, does it?" Jack laughed a little, but didn't answer, just looked at her with twinkling eyes, "Well, if that tickles, then this must be _really _tickly!" Her fingers gently rubbed his sides as Jack let out shrieks of laughter from her one-handed attack, her other hand holding both hers and Jack's icecreams – or what was left of them – securely.

"S-Stop! Sto-op! Edeeeeeeeeen!" He laughed out and she joined in, halting her attack and placing a quick kiss on his nose, his cheeks flushed and eyes wide. She grinned back at him, handing over his icecream.

"You're lucky you're cute, padawan."

Jack beamed, though more at the nickname than the compliment. It was the favourite out of the bundle she'd designed for him – and one that she used for nobody else. It was all his. And he loved it, just as he loved the Star Wars franchise. And just as he loved Eden.

It was there thing. Or one of them, at least.

It was then that Eden spotted something in the window behind her little one, and a smile of triumph etched across her face as she looked down to Jack beside her, "I think I may have just found daddy's birthday present!"

**XXXX**

**A/N: Okaaaay, so it may not be an actual meeting but it's contact! And in the next one it begins!**

**Review and it gets here quicker ;) **


	5. Chapter 4: You and Me

**A/N: I love my reviewers. You are all amazing people and that is why this one is extra-long :D Oh, and guess which two characters finally meet in this one…? **

**Disclaimer: I dream, but as of yet no cigar.**

**XXXX**

_Something about you now_

_I can't quite figure out_

_Everything she does is beautiful_

_Everything she does is right_

___Cause it's you and me and all of the people_

_With nothing to do, nothing to lose_

_And it's you and me and all of the people_

_And I don't know why I can't keep my eyes off of you._

_**You and Me, by Lifehouse.**_

**XXXX**

In one sense, Eden actually got lucky the next week.

Hotch and his team were called away on the Wednesday to consult on a case in small-town Oklahoma (which inspired her, in hopes of removing any association with murder from the place, to watch the musical for probably the fifth time in her life. Jack had joined her and for the past few days she had woken him with a delightful outburst of 'Oh, what a beautiful morning…' She began to wonder how long he would continue to like her if she kept it up but resolved to stop soon, in fear of the answer.)

The job kept him until Saturday morning, meaning his return came in the middle of the day, which left Eden and Jack the perfect amount of time to buy the meats, the salad, buffet spread, the cake and the presents and sufficiently hide them.

Though she had a feeling attempting to hide something from a profiler, in his own home, might have been akin to fighting a polar bear with a rubber chicken.

It just wasn't going to end in her favour.

But maybe, just maybe, against all conceivable odds, they could get away with it…

"So did you want me to leave around twelve tomorrow so you can lead the guests to the party area without interruption, or were you just planning to distract me as they jumped the back gate?"

Or maybe not.

Eden groaned, throwing her head back in exasperation, hearing the distant sounds of Jack in the bath, as per Saturday night ritual.

"How long have you known?"

Hotch looked up from his paper, sat at the kitchen table as Eden leaned against the work surface facing him, pouting and swirling the coffee in her hands.

"Since you sent the team cookies. You're not as subtle as you think you are."

"Hey, we can't all be superhuman, ok?" She poked her tongue out at him and he shook his head with a smile. "But you don't mind, right? I know you said birthdays aren't really your thing and all, but I only invited your team, and the weather's set to be amazing and there'll be a barbecue because barbecues are all manly and primal and meat-centric and I figured you'd like that because the Darwinism we have to study in accordance with its effect on Victorian literature in class talks about how Alpha Males are all about bringing home the bacon and you would literally be _cooking_ the bacon so-"

"Eden, stop. Breathe." Hotch demanded as Eden's nerves manifested into almost incoherent babbling and her face became pink and flustered. She took a deep breath as Hotch's slightly concerned expression morphed into amusement. "I don't mind. I think it's very thoughtful of you and Jack to arrange this whole thing and I appreciate your efforts." Her face melted into sublime relief and her teeth stopped gnawing on her bottom lip immediately. "Just as long as it's low-key."

Eden nodded emphatically, "Entirely low-key; no fireworks or anything." Mainly because she knew not to trust herself near flames or semi-explosives. Eden was clumsy. It would not end well.

"And by low-key, I mean get rid of the piñata." He raised his eyes, smirking.

Eden looked back, flabbergasted. She's hidden the damn thing in the shed! The shed! Aaron hadn't even been in there since his return! "You're really not human, are you?"

She only received a knowing smile in response as Hotch went back to reading his paper and Eden stood there, still in awe. The question simply hung in the air and for the first time, Eden felt as though she wasn't the only crazy person in the Hotchner household.

She grinned at the thought.

**XXXX**

Originally, Eden had planned to rely on Derek and, pathetically, little Jack to introduce her to the rest of the guests entering the house on Sunday, especially since Derek had already agreed to simply stay after their training session and help her set the garden up for festivities. She had to admit that she was glad Aaron had found out in that respect, because she knew things were about to be a lot less awkward, since Derek would have known her a combination of about five hours at that point, and Jack had only been _alive_ for five years.

So it was a blessing in disguise, really; for everyone involved.

Thankfully, Eden wasn't too nervous about meeting Aaron's team: she enjoyed social situations (for the most part) and she knew how much they all meant to Hotch, both individually and collectively. He talked about them all the time, though Eden wasn't sure he even realised he was doing it.

It was sweet. And unsurprising.

Because Aaron didn't need to say a word for Eden to know that they'd been through hell and back together. And if that doesn't bond people, nothing will.

Eden had showered quickly after her defence session, attempting to ignore the ache in her muscles and burn in her abdomen, Derek having acted a little too harshly in revenge for her plan to add a little more than muscle to his bones (something she dubbed her 'MoreThanMorgan' plan.) All in good fun, apparently.

Derek needed a serious redefinition of the word 'fun' if he truly believed that.

_Sadist_.

And yet still she found him sneaking some of her homemade cupcakes when she'd arrived back downstairs, curls darker while still a little damp, Eden being too much of fidget to sit still long enough to blow-dry all of her hair.

She laughed and tapped the hand surreptitiously reaching over the garden table for another, tutting as she did. "Stop it! You'll spoil your dinner if you carry on!"

Hotch laughed as he carried another chair from the kitchen and onto the patio, "Pot, kettle, black, Eden." Derek grinned as Eden's hands found her hips in indignation.

"Do as I say, not as I do! I'm young; I'm supposed to be reckless." She turned to face Derek with a mock sympathetic expression, "You on the other hand, my friend, should really start looking after your arteries. It's getting to that time." She patted his stomach teasingly, knowing she'd only find solid abs but faking the feel of a little chub instead, "The middle-aged spread will set in soon enough!"

Hotch shook his head as Derek quirked an eyebrow, "You know I don't need a training mat to take you out, Princess."

Eden threw her head back in a laugh as she recovered the tray of cakes, "For the time being, but you're about three cupcakes away from an addiction, and then the only viable threat you can use is one that involves you sitting on me. And that would be murder. And then Hotch would have to put you in prison, and that is a lot of paperwork – is that really a gift you wanna give him on his birthday, Hercules? Paperwork? Really? Shame on you!"

Shaking his head, Derek stepped away from the food table, "Hotch, you know you have a basket-case living with you, right?" He called and Hotch grinned as he steered an overly-active Jack away from the barbecue, which had yet to be turned on. Better safe than sorry.

"I'd figured it out."

Eden shrugged, "It's why I fit in so well." She looked again at the spread of food before her, which spanned a good ten feet by four, and worried her lower lip. She looked from Derek to Hotch, concerned, "Do you think this will be enough for everyone?"

Derek chuckled in disbelief and Hotch just looked at her, amused, "You kidding, Princess?"

Hotch agreed, "We haven't even cooked the meat yet. You did just invite the team, right? Not the entire Bureau?"

"Because we look prepared to feed them all." Derek followed and the two men exchanged laughing glances.

Eden shrugged, resisting the urge to cross her arms, when Jack came up to her and leant with his back against the front of her legs, head settled at her lower stomach. She ran a gentle hand through his sandy hair and sighed, relaxing. "You're right: everything's perfect." And she smiled again.

The doorbell rang. Eden looked at her watch. It was 1:50, though she supposed when something involved the boss, workers had a natural instinct to be early. Habit of a lifetime. Jack took off at full throttle towards the door and Hotch laughed and followed quickly behind, while Eden readjusted the shades on top of her head habitually. Derek moved in beside her and threw a bicep across her shoulders comfortingly.

"They're gonna love you, Princess, no need to fidget."

She smiled up at him, surprised by the knot in her stomach and wondered what it was that her instincts were trying to tell her, exactly. She wasn't normally so anxious about meeting people, and this sudden onslaught of worry was unnerving. "Even if I go into hyper-nerve mode and start my incoherent babbling?"

Derek chuckled, "Even if your voice reaches decibels only cats can understand." Eden grinned gratefully and leaned into him a little, accepting and thanking him for his comfort, "And if all else fails, just point them to the dessert section. Nobody's gonna say no to that."

Eden laughed, just as Hotch and Jack reappeared in the garden, accompanied by two women, both attractive in entirely different manners, and David Rossi, whom Eden remembered briefly having met the day of her interview. He approached her and Eden parted from Derek as he moved to greet the women and she stepped forward to say her hellos to David.

Hotch stood by his side, his own sunglasses perched on his face and casual t-shirt a world away from Rossi's cream dress-shirt, turned up to the elbows, just as the latter had chosen jeans, as opposed to Aaron's khakis. But both wore similarly relaxed expressions, and Rossi smiled as he took her hand in a small shake and placed a kiss on her cheek.

"You remember Eden, David." Hotch introduced and David smiled, hands settling on his hips.

"How could I forget? You doing ok, kiddo?"

Eden grinned, "Better than ok."

"You sure?" He grinned, teasingly, "Hotch here isn't being too hard on you, is he? He can be a real hard-ass sometimes, especially to the young ones. A little… anal-retentive, shall we say?" Eden laughed in reply but shook her head as Aaron rolled his eyes, though nobody could really see it behind his shades.

"No, we won't say, thank you David." He answered for her, looking between Eden and Rossi. The latter smiled like a cat.

"Whatever you like, Boss; it is your birthday, after all." He turned his attention back to Eden, "Have you met any of the others yet?"

"Just Hercules over there," She gestured to Derek and Rossi nodded in understanding, "He's my self-defence teacher… though after this morning's workout, I think I might need someone to teach me to defend myself against him, too. My body will never recover."

"That brutal?"

"Like Prometheus having his liver picked out by vultures. Never ending." She answered, straight-faced at first before letting loose a smile and a laugh, "Ok, maybe I'm exaggerating a little, but still."

Rossi smiled with a small wink, "A woman's prerogative." He put a hand on her back and nodded to where Derek himself stood with the two women, beginning to guide her, "Come on, we'll introduce you to a couple of the others while there are only a few of us around. Less overwhelming that way."

Eden nodded her agreement as Aaron semi-led the way, only half a step to her left and in front, and she smiled and sent a quick wink to Jack, who she noted was stealing a sausage-roll from the buffet and scampering away. She was sure the others knew too, but it was all in good fun to let him think he'd gotten away unscathed on his own merit.

"Eden, this is Emily Prentiss and Penelope Garcia. Ladies, this is Eden Summers." Rossi introduced as they reached the other side of the patio and Eden beamed at the two women before her, the former of which had a very classic kind of dark beauty, and styled herself in light jeans and vest top combo, whereas the latter was more eccentric, with violet streaks in her blonde hair, cupid-bow pink lips and a figure-hugging blue summer-dress with coral floral patterns, a coral shawl to match, a cream set of wedges and parasol to top it off. They both looked amazing, but at entirely different ends of the spectrum.

Penelope was the first to step forward and surprisingly embraced Eden, who laughed and returned the hug without hesitating. The blonde pulled away but held the younger girl at arm's length; "Your desserts are divine, your accent is charming and your hair is beautiful. I love you. Don't ever leave."

Eden threw her head back in a laugh as Rossi, Hotch and Derek shared a knowing grin, Emily approaching the two other women and standing beside them; "Don't worry," she explained, "You get used to it."

"But only if you stick around." Penelope was quick to interrupt, almost staring the woman she held captive down to see if she would break, whilst somehow still looking vulnerable.

Eden simply grinned, "That's ok; I don't plan on going anywhere. Though you may regret that given enough time." She joked, taking the sunglasses from atop her head and sliding them back through her hair, pushing errant curls away from her eyes. "I'm really glad you're here though – I panicked for a while that nobody would be turning up, since, y'know, I wrote your invite on a napkin which, funnily enough, could have just been used _as_ a napkin. What if one of you had literally blown your nose all over the party? Tragedy. It was a flawed plan."

Emily laughed and Garcia released her arms, twirling her parasol between her fingers as Derek handed her a glass of iced punch and Rossi gave one each to Eden and Emily, who thanked him in near unison.

"Not as flawed as the carrier-pigeon idea could have been – that is not a mess I would have wanted to clean up." Emily grinned, taking a sip from her cup as they all laughed. Hotch shook his head, not in the least surprised.

"Carrier-pigeon?" He simply asked, eyebrow quirked in Eden's direction, while both of them kept their eyes flitting between present company and Jack. He hadn't gone far, just playing contently with his remote control car a little away on the patio.

"What? I was twelve, we lived near a farm. It worked for the war effort!" She defended, a grin etched across her face, not even trying to look indignant.

"Yeah, nearly a century ago." David teased and everyone grinned or laughed, "And I thought I was bad with technology."

Eden took a sip of her drink and almost sighed at how cool it felt traveling down her throat. It really was a warm day; she was amazed Derek was coping so well in his jeans and dark t-shirt. "I like to think of it as vintage."

"That may be so, but some things are left in the past for a reason." Emily teased.

"Like Rod-Stewart-Meets-Steve-Tyler-Meets-Lenny-Kravitz-Love-Child hairstyles?" Penelope provoked and though Eden was aware she'd missed the origin of that joke, she still grinned at the mental image it produced.

Emily stuttered a little before replying, "It was the 80s! Goth-Rock was in fashion! And I'm still sure you did something to that picture…"

"No, no mon cher, that was all you. Just like it's all you right now thinking that Goth-Rock was ever an acceptable fashion statement."

Eden laughed at Garcia's comment, though she had a feeling she knew what was coming next…

"It could have been worse, Emily. Could have had, oh I don't know, a bowl-cut, for example?" Derek grinned at Eden, a twinkle in his eyes as she narrowed her own in his direction and tried to force her smile away.

"Really, Hercules? You want to talk about hair? _You_, of all people?" She mocked in return, her eyes flitting up to his shaved head as the others laughed.

"What can I say, Princess? I don't hear any ladies complaining."

Hotch, surprisingly, was the one to answer, "Maybe not to your face…"

They all laughed and 'oohed' a little, like kids in highschool, as Derek exhaled quickly in a short sigh and shook his head a little, "Yeah, yeah, yeah; just remember whose next, Hotch, ok? It is your birthday, after all: another year older, another year balder is all I'm saying. And yours won't be a choice."

The 'ooh's' escalated: "If my hair begins to fall out, it's not age I'll be blaming it on, Morgan."

Friendly banter continued between the six of them, with Jack coming to join them at one point to lean against Eden's side, who absentmindedly twirled the hair at the nape of his neck. She was sure he was tired – he'd been so excited for the party last night it had taken him over an hour and a half to get to sleep, two stories from Aaron, one from Eden and numerable lullabies.

Eden wondered if maybe she should lay him down for a nap but knew he was excited to see Henry, JJ's son, and since they would be there any minute she didn't want to spoil his fun. He'd more than likely perk up when they arrived, and if not then she'd revisit the notion later.

"It's just gone two; do you think we should warm up the barbecue for when the others get here?" Hotch threw the question out, eyeing the old machinery (which, to Eden, just looked as though it belonged in an alternate universe in Dr. Who) and the bag of coals beside it.

Eden felt Jack perk up at the prospect of sausages and burgers, so she whole-heartedly agreed; "Sounds like a plan, Boss-man – want me to grab the lighter?"

Hotch nodded, "There's one in my desk in the study; you know where the keys are."

She nodded, though it was more a statement than a question, and without further ado Eden ruffled Jack's hair and began making her way back into the house, "I'll be just a sec!"

She jogged through the kitchen, into the hallway and took a sharp right to head up the cream carpet of the stairs, before pausing for a second and deciding that it was probably for the best if she visited the little girl's room at that moment, before things got too hectic and she'd be missed.

Two minutes later she grabbed the keys from the cabinet in the hallway, between hers and Aaron's rooms, and shimmied into the study, hearing faintly mumbled voices that were somehow distinctly new. She assumed the rest of the team had arrived, confirmed by Jack's gleeful conversation with a younger, just as eager, voice.

She grinned as she set about searching Aaron's draws.

Downstairs, delighted greetings were exchanged, apologies for lateness and quick hugs and handshakes distributed in abundance. "Traffic was a nightmare," JJ apologised as Will took in his surroundings.

"Nice place you got here, Agent Hotchner," He drawled, trying not to linger too long on the picture of a mother and son on the table near the door.

"Thank you," Hotch accepted, "We certainly like it."

"Um, Hotch?" Spencer interrupted, fidgeting slightly, his hands uncomfortably wringing together, "Do you mind if I use your bathroom?"

Will laughed a little, "He drank a whole load of coffee at breakfast this mornin' – made you think it was the last he'd ever taste, the way he was goin' at it."

Spencer watched as Hotch lifted the corner of his mouth in his signature semi-smile and threw his head in the direction of the staircase to the right of the lobby, about six feet away; "Up the stairs, second door on the left."

That was all Spencer needed, "Thanks." He hurried away from the crowd and took the directions given, no pausing and no gathering of his surroundings. It really had been a lot of coffee.

_A better addiction than dilaudid, at least._

He exited the room much slower, taking in the cream walls with interspaced photos, most of which contained Jack and ranged in his age, from birth to present day. There was small, oak cabinet and drawer set a few feet ahead, five doors along the corridor, and the one opposite the wooden storage was open.

And Spencer could hear someone inside.

Curiosity getting the better of him, he slowed his pace further and approached cautiously, more out of habit than for any other reason (though it wouldn't be the first time Hotch would have had to deal with an intruder in his home) and peeked around the corner, trying to be as quiet as possible.

Later, he'd come to realise that he really needn't have bothered attempting such delicacy as Eden Summers existed in a whole other dimension to Spencer and the rest of humanity. But for the time being, he erred on the side of caution.

The scene before him set a furrow in his brow.

Hotch's desk seemed to be under siege by, from what Spencer could tell, a sea of dark curls, blue jeans and little white sandals, who let out the occasional mumble along the lines of 'who needs this much blue-tac?' and 'if I'd have known, I'd have gotten him a damn pen-pot for his Birthday.'

It didn't take much of his genius to deduce who he was faced with.

And it only took the next words out of her mouth for Spencer to be sure, having only ever known her by writing, that his deduction was completely correct.

Eden Summers. The source of all current curiosity at the BAU.

"Stick 'em up, Buster! I've got a weapon and I'm not afraid to use it!"

And it was easy to see why.

Spencer let out a small laugh; he couldn't help himself, and buried his hands deep into the brown of his trouser pockets as the woman before him whipped vehemently around at the noise, pistol still firmly in her grasp, facial expression surprised.

Her eyes were wide, and Spencer could make out the deep ivy colour even from the other side of the room, as chocolate curls tumbled about her shoulders, kept back by stylish sunglasses atop her head.

She was beautiful.

And she was also ridiculous, which gave Spencer the confidence to comment: "While you might not find yourself afraid you may still experience some difficulty with the execution, if you'll excuse the pun," he smiled harmlessly, honey eyes sparked with mirth, "The safety-catch is still on."

She looked down at the gun in her hands, as though suddenly realising what she had been doing, and Spencer admired the faint hue of pink that coloured her ivory cheeks before her gaze met his, twinkling.

She cocked her head to the side, one dimple appearing as she let loose a teasing grin, lowering her weapon; "Then I guess it's your lucky day, punk." Spencer couldn't miss the accent, strong as though she'd just walked off the Mayflower herself, and tried not to dwell on how attractive he found it.

Instead he laughed softly, the smile still lingering at the corners of his lips while he simply replied, "I guess it is."

Eden smiled again, slightly uncontrollably she noted, attempting not to give too much of herself away. With messy dark hair, a strong jaw line and eyes like honey, this man was certainly doing something to her…

But she knew that wasn't acceptable. Because she knew who he was.

And who he was just so happened to share the boss of who she was.

Practically family.

She quickly put the gun back into its drawer, picked up the lighter that had been hidden beneath it and slipped it into one of her back jean pockets, allowing her hands to rest there as she remembered her manners. "You must be Spencer! It's wonderful to finally meet you!"

Eden grinned at him, and Spencer kept his focus on that and not the small revelation of her abdomen that her movement created, slightly dumbfounded, though – he told himself – by the comment more than anything; "It is?"

"Yeah: I've heard a lot about you. It's nice to put a face to the name," She laughed a little, pushing away unbidden thoughts about just how nice of a face it was, too.

Spencer was still engaged with his own shock, "Hotch talks about me?" Eden laughed a little, stepping slightly closer and decreasing a little bit of the distance between them, though they were still a good few feet apart.

"He's always talking about you guys, whether he realises it or not. He loves you all; you are basically family, after all."

She was still smiling, and Reid noted that there was no jealousy in her tone, and not even any kind of longing, really. She seemed like a very content person. Too busy creating a sly profile and not putting his brain-filter into use, he replied, "He hasn't spoken much about you."

He regretted the words that left his mouth almost immediately, like he often did, and wondered if he'd offended her already, or managed to scare her away. He wondered if she'd leave the room and avoid him for the rest of the night, or demand an explanation or apology – the latter of which she probably deserved. But he'd only spoken the truth.

Because the truth Spencer could do. And he did it well.

But she didn't do any of these things, for which he was grateful. Instead, she simply laughed a little with a small shrug and nibbled her lower lip, an indicator usually attributed to stress or anxiety.

Normally, because he was around, he'd assume the former. But something was telling Spencer that she felt a little shy, though the reason he couldn't fathom.

"I guess I'm just not all that interesting," She commented, removing her hands from her back pockets and crossing them around her chest, rubbing one arm slightly even though the room was warm.

She was feeling vulnerable. Again he wondered the reason, and words fell from his mouth before he thought them through, though he caught her eye and held it, radiating sincerity, "Actually, I think indescribable is more appropriate." He shrugged a little this time, "You're a mystery."

This time her laugh was loud and genuine, "Mysteries are usually worth figuring out; I promise you, you'd be nothing but bored if you had to spend even a minute dissecting my life. I'm just your average, run-of-the-mill student, I'm afraid."

He didn't believe her, and he stated so; "Technically there's no such thing. While students are said to share certain characteristics with one another, such as laziness, a penchant for unhealthy foods, adversity to daylight hours and excessive drinking, the majority of these examples are actually just stereotypes perpetuated by society in order to encourage students to differ from this behaviour and adversely act responsible while away from home. It's a mass induction of reverse psychology."

There was a brief moment of silence in which Eden tilted her head again, eyes sweeping across Spencer's face with an expression he couldn't quite decipher. Whatever it was though, it made his palms feel clammy and his neck hot.

He was sure she thought he was a freak.

"Did you just tell me that people are like snowflakes, essentially?"

Spencer grinned a little, admittedly slightly relieved, taking years off his already youthful appearance, and rocked back and forth slightly on the balls of his feet, "I suppose I did." He scratched the back of his neck, inadvertently ruffling the already tousled hair there.

"Well then, just to be clear, this snowflake's name is Eden Summers," She smiled and held her hand out to him, "Ironic as that may be." She laughed a little at her own discovery. Spencer found it endearing.

He looked at her hand for a minute, pushing away the urge to habitually reject the offering and instead let the fact that he want to touch her, to be a little closer to her, take over. Surreptitiously, he wiped his hand on the side of his trousers before taking hers, hoping she didn't notice the action or any lingering perspiration.

She didn't.

"Eden," he tested the name, letting it sit delicately in the air for a moment, "_The Lord God placed the man in the Garden of Eden to tend and watch over it_."

She laughed a little, squeezing his hand lightly before letting go and adjusting the sunglasses on her head, "Genesis 2:15 – you know your scripture." Spencer couldn't help looking pleasantly shocked. Eden shrugged, "My grandmother came from a pretty strict Catholic background," She explained before grinning again, "But don't worry, I've been tending to and watching over myself like a big girl for a while now; you won't be called on for that."

It was Spencer's turn to shrug as he held her gaze steady, "Even if it wasn't in the Bible, it's still in the job description." Eden let out a laugh.

"Well how about we head back downstairs for now, before the rest of your team think I've kidnapped you and decide to enact their own 'to serve and protect' clause." She sent him a grin as she wandered past his still form, turning in the doorway to face him when he still had yet to move, eyes drifting into space. She laughed, breaking his daze, "It might be easier to convince them if you're actually with me, Spencer."

He shook his head to clear it, refocusing just in time to see Eden turn and continue down the hallway.

_Eden, _he thought to himself as he began to follow her, _a place or state of great happiness; an unspoilt paradise. _

Only five minutes in, and already Spencer Reid couldn't agree more.

**Show me more love? It gets fingers itchy to type quicker…**

**And I really do appreciate you all, and your love for Eden – it makes me both very happy and inspires me to continue to add depth to her character :D**

**So pretty please? Reviews?**


End file.
